Betsy, as promised, here’s the story…
At training camp last week, I entered the primitive shower stall ever-so-gently, trying not to waken my sleeping cabin-mates. And there it was. A cricket on the floor of the stall. Shudder!!
Have I ever mentioned – I have a thing about crickets. I absolutely LOATHE them. If they stay outdoors in their proper habitat, I can manage, barely. But should they dare to enter MY habitat, they become an endangered species.
It all goes back to the summer of ’79. A rainy summer it was, that first year my friends and I rented a summer cottage (think – converted garage) in the Hamptons. By summer’s end, we had enough of the rain, especially since it brought crickets and their incessant chirping inside. I learned to ferret out their hideaways, anticipate their jumping trajectory, and have my flip-flop poised, ready to trounce. I became a serial cricket-murderer.
[by the way, one of the kids at training camp told me that when he first heard the term serial murderer, he wondered why anyone would want to kill cereal. But I digress, sorry]
Now toward summer’s end, I developed a fierce case of bronchitis. When my friend, Donna, went out for the evening, I rested on the couch in the living room. Delirious with fever, not quite awake or asleep, but somewhere in between, I see it. Sitting on the coffee table beside my bed. Staring at me with its hideous eyes. Antennae quivering. A giant, white albino cricket. And I do mean giant – it was the exact length and width of the coffee table. Frozen under my sheets, I sense it poised, waiting to pounce at my slightest movement. My lungs constrict as I ponder its possible trajectory.
Ah! Lights flash in the driveway. A car door thud, followed by the crush of gravel underfoot. The screen door creaks and Donna enters the room. Courageously, I shout a warning, “LOOK OUT FOR THE CRICKET!” Baffled, she asks, “What cricket?”
What cricket??? Is she blind?
My arm pointing to the offender, I shriek, “THE GIANT ALBINO CRICKET ON THE COFFEE TABLE!” And then with a huff, I turn my back to both Donna and the cricket.
In my mind’s eye, I saw both Donna and the imaginary cricket, so I pose the question:
How can she miss what I can see so clearly?
Which, in my illustration-grappling mind, translates to “Why doesn’t everyone see things my way?”
Ok, so that time, it was a fever-induced hallucination. But there’s many a time that subconsciously we picture ourselves as “the smartest person in the room,” so why isn’t everyone listening to ME? And though we may not say it, we wonder – Can’t you see my brilliant wisdom?? Can’t you see the situation or the solution as clearly as I do?
Be it is a colleague at the office, a fellow team member with a differing leadership style, someone in our circle of friends or a family member, somewhere along the line, it is certain that we will encounter a thorn in flesh, and when we do, we need to get over ourselves.
When I have that prideful attitude, I’m wrong even if I’m right. In his letter to the Phillipians, Paul says it this way:
If you’ve gotten anything at all out of following Christ, if His love has made any difference in your life, if being in a community of the Spirit means anything to you, if you have a heart, if you care— then do me a favor: Agree with each other, love each other, be deep-spirited friends. Don’t push your way to the front; don’t sweet-talk your way to the top. Put yourself aside, and help others get ahead. Don’t be obsessed with getting your own advantage. Forget yourselves long enough to lend a helping hand.
Think of yourselves the way Christ Jesus thought of himself. He had equal status with God but didn’t think so much of himself that he had to cling to the advantages of that status no matter what. Not at all. When the time came, he set aside the privileges of deity and took on the status of a slave, became human! Having become human, he stayed human. It was an incredibly humbling process. He didn’t claim special privileges. Instead, he lived a selfless, obedient life and then died a selfless, obedient death—and the worst kind of death at that—a crucifixion.
Because of that obedience, God lifted him high and honored him far beyond anyone or anything, ever…
The Christian life is not a “my way or the highway” life. Before insisting on our way, we need to consider others better than ourselves. Who knows? God used a donkey to speak to a prophet. Imagine what can He do with me when I set aside my own agenda.
